


Friday Night

by TheIttyBitty



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Skinny Steve, Skinny Steve Rogers, Underage Drinking, just a lot of drunk shit in general
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:06:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7504210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIttyBitty/pseuds/TheIttyBitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Steve and Bucky get a little too drunk at Tony's party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friday Night

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is my first Stucky fanfic ever. I've done lots of Destiel, but never toed the waters of Captain America and the Winter Soldier.  
> That said, it's very short and it's not great but I really wanted to write it. So there.  
> If you didn't hate it, it would be super duper if you let me know.
> 
>  
> 
>  **WARNINGS**  
>  \- underage drinking

 

It happens like this: they are very drunk. They're sitting side-by-side on Tony's living room couch, and there's a party going full-tilt all around them. Or, there was. Over the past hour almost everyone else has either passed out or gone home.

Clint is still singing Meatloaf at the top of his lungs in the next room into Tony's expensive looking karaoke machine, Sam and Thor are on the other end of the room playing Mario Kart and drunkenly hurling insults at each other, everyone else is passed out on the floor or on various chairs. It's amazing that a bunch of teenagers managed to scrape together enough booze to get all of them this lit, Steve thinks.

Steve and Bucky are sitting very close together on the couch, practically plastered together. Bucky's right arm is looped around Steve's shoulders, in his fingers dangles a half-empty bottle of cookie-dough flavored vodka that he keeps pressing to Steve's lips.

Steve gasps and sputters, laughing and pushing Bucky's arm away.

“Fuckin' quit it!” He says, but the drunken giggling really takes the heat out of his words.

“Mm, no.” Bucky decides after a moment of deliberation. “I wanna see how drunk you can get.”

Steve laughs again, ducking his head to avoid the bottle. “Y'know, if I were a girl I’d be really worried.” He slurs.

“Why's that?” Bucky asks, grinning loosely.

“I would defin- defdi- _definitely,_ “ He sticks out his tongue, “Think you were trying to get me drunk so you could fuck me.”

Bucky wets his bottom lip. “I don't need to get anybody drunk to fuck 'em.” He insists.

“Ha.” Steve says, rolling his eyes. “ _Puh_ \- lease.”

“Hey, what? You don't fuckin' believe me? C'mere you little asshole.” Bucky slides his arm down from Steve's shoulders to wrap around his middle and pull him even closer, impossible as it might seem. Steve is practically in his lap.

Bucky looks at Steve through hooded eyes, lips parted, cheeks flushed red. “I could make _you_ wanna fuck me.”

There's a long moment of stunned silence before Steve busts out laughing. “In your _dreams_ Barnes!” He says, holding his sides.

Bucky frowns at him, then frowns harder when Steve _keeps_ laughing. “Yeah, okay. It's not _that_ funny. Stop laughing, asshole!”

Steve can't stop though, and he keeps laughing until he's gasping for breath and seeing spots. Eventually he calms down though, wiping the wetness from his eyes with his sweater sleeve to see Bucky scowling at the floor.

“Aw, come on.” Steve nudges his friend's shoulder with his chin. “Did I hurt your feelings? C'mon Buck, don't be like that.”

“Naw, it's fine.” Bucky says tersely. “You just almost laughed yourself into a fuckin' coma because I’m so unattractive is all. It's whatever.”

“Noooooo.” Steve protests, still smiling. “I didn't say you were unattractive, did I?”

Bucky thinks. “I guess not.”

“You're very attractive.” Steve assures him, patting him on the shoulder. “Very sexy.”

“You think I’m sexy?” Bucky asks hesitantly.

“Mmhmm.” Steve nods.

Bucky tilts his head to the side to look at Steve, his expression has gone from angry to curious. His dark eyes flit across Steve's face. “Well- what about me is sexy, do you think?”

Steve purses his lips and thinks, letting his eyes roam freely over Bucky. “Your hair is sexy,” He says, reaching up to run a hand through it. It's long and dark and thick.

“Mom says I need a haircut.” Bucky grumbles.

“It's the style.” Steve protests. “Especially when you put it up in that little bun.”

Bucky's eyes widen minutely. “Do you... like that?”

Steve nods. “It's cute.”

“Huh.”

“And, um, your arms are sexy.” Steve continues.

“My arms?”

Steve lets his hand run up Bucky's arm to give his bicep a squeeze. It's not something he'd normally do, but he's very drunk. In fact, he takes a moment to grab the vodka from Bucky and take a long swig straight from the bottle before elaborating.

“The muscles. Ever since you started working out. They're very... I mean- not that they weren't good arms before,” He backtracks, “But now they're _extra_ good, y'know?”

Bucky stares at him for a moment, then looks down at his arms and flexes.

The muscles under Steve's fingers jump a little, and his stomach flips. He blames all the vodka for the heat settling in his lower abdomen.

When Bucky looks up again, he's grinning. “You been lookin' at my arms?” He asks, voice low.

Steve shrugs, feigning disinterest. He takes another pull from the bottle. “In passing.”

Lightning fast, Bucky's unoccupied hand whips out and grabs Steve's chin, holding him still. His grip isn't too hard, but it's firm. “Or,” Bucky says, “you been _looking_.” His eyes roam over Steve's face, landing on his lips. “You look when my shirt's off? … You look in the locker room?”

Steve's breath is coming fast, he's half-hard listening to Bucky talk and he's _terrified_. They play around a lot, okay? They pretend flirt, act like they're about to kiss, sometimes Bucky slaps him on the ass. It started a while back because Steve and Bucky are so close that a bunch of kids at school thought they were gay and they got picked on for it, so now it's kind of like... a joke.

This feels different, though. This feels decidedly unlike their usual teasing.

Steve reaches up and grabs Bucky's wrist, trying halfheartedly to break his grip. “Buck-” He says, “What're you-”

Bucky is leaning forward, cutting him off, brushing his nose along Steve's. And then, in a heartbeat, Bucky's lips are brushing Steve's. The touch is very, very light, testing. Just to see if he can do it. To see if Steve will stop him.

Steve doesn't stop him. He doesn't want to, but he's not sure if he could even if he did want to because he's pretty sure he can't feel any of his limbs.

Bucky kisses him again, a little harder this time, and Steve closes his eyes. He kisses back, and he's inwardly delighted at the hitch of Bucky's breath.

Bucky lets go of Steve's chin, hand sliding down Steve's throat to rest on his shoulder as they kiss. They're not deep kisses, not really, parting lips and shared breath, exploring. Then Steve opens his eyes and finds Bucky looking back at him, and wants to kiss him harder so he does. He presses forward, opening Bucky's mouth with his tongue, earning a soft groan. He shifts, sits up, and moves so that he's straddling Bucky's lap, eye-to-eye with him. He cards his hands through Bucky's too-long hair and grips.

Bucky pants, grabs Steve hard by the hips.

“Fuck,” He breathes out.

They kiss, they make out. Sloppy, drunken kisses with too much tongue and teeth, hands roaming all over.

Steve doesn't think about it. Doesn't think maybe he should stop. Doesn't think about how they're both drunk. Doesn't think about tomorrow.

He thinks about the feeling of Bucky biting his lip, Bucky's hands on his ass, Bucky's hard-on pressed against his thigh.

He doesn't stop to wonder if he'll remember this in the morning.

 

-o-

 

Steve wakes with a pounding in his head, a dry mouth, and a feeling that he might need to puke very soon. His first thought is that he's sick again and he's in the hospital, but as he slowly opens his eyes he finds not doctors, but Tony looking down at him.

“You look rough, bro.” Tony comments.

Steve pouts and closes his eyes, ducking his head back into the cushion of the couch he's laying on. “I'm dying.” He croaks.

“Well that's what getting drunk without hydrating will do to you.” He points out cheerfully. “ _I_ make sure and keep hydrated which is why-”

“Fuck _off,_ Tony.” Comes a deep voice, very close to Steve's back.

Steve freezes, registering now that his back is unpleasantly warm and there's an arm thrown over his middle. He shifts slightly and turns his head to peer back, and finds himself looking into Bucky's own blinking eyes. It's not actually that odd, they've shared beds and couches lots of times growing up, but he's not exactly sure how they got this way this time.

“Buck?” He says, wishing he had even a little saliva in his mouth. “What're- why are we spooning?”

“Tony.” Bucky says, ignoring him. “Fuck. Off.”

Tony raises his eyebrows, but then gives a little nod. “There's food in the kitchen when you're ready.” He tells them.

After he leaves, Steve begins the slow struggle to sit up. He's aided by Bucky's hand on his back.

“I'm dying.” He reiterates.

Bucky laughs softly. “I know.”

Bucky's hand stays on Steve's back, rubbing slowly, and it feels nice but it's seems a little odd. Steve tries to asses himself, make sure he's all there, but when he starts to stretch he feels a sharp pain in his neck.

“Ow!” He hisses. “What _is_ that?”

Bucky's hand stills. “On your neck?”

Steve nods.

“I... think it's a hickey?”

“A hick- a _hickey_?!” Steve yelps. “How the _fuck_ did I get a hickey? What was I doing last night?”

Bucky's hand slowly moves away. Steve misses the feeling of it.

“You don't remember last night?”

“I mean- parts of it?” Steve admits, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Uh, I remember doing shots in the kitchen. Karaoke. Somebody setting off fireworks in the bathroom. After that it's all kind of blurry.”

Bucky sits up next to him. “You don't remember.” He sounds sad.

Steve turns to look at him, hand still covering the offending hickey on his neck. “Why? Do you remember last night?”

“Most of it.”

“You know who this came from?”

Bucky looks away quickly and shakes his head. “Didn't see you with anybody.”

“Huh.” Says Steve. Then, as he looks at Bucky's expression, “Hey, you okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” Bucky says, but he doesn't look okay. “I just- I think I gotta throw up.”

He flees the room.

 

In Stark's massive, chrome covered kitchen, what's left of the party sits in varying degrees of pain and agony at the kitchen table.

Tony is here of course, looking pleased as punch. Rhodey is curled up under the kitchen table, grumbling. Sam is leaning back in his chair, occupied by a handheld video-game, looking tired. Bruce and Thor both appear to be sleeping, heads rested on the table. Clint has his hearing aids out and on the table in front of him, dark sunglasses shield his eyes. He might be asleep too, but Steve has no way to tell. Natasha seems normal, greedily eating greasy bacon from a heaping plate in front of her.

Steve gives a weary wave and goes to sit down next to Clint.

“Where's Barnes?” Natasha wonders.

“Throwing up.” Steve tells her.

“Ah.”

“So, hey,” Steve leans toward her, speaking quietly, “Do you know where I got this hickey? I don't remember much of the second half of last night and I have no idea where it came from.”

She shrugs. “Beats me. Hey guys,” She addresses the rest of the table, “Any of you know where Steve might have got a hickey last night?”

The get mostly blank looks back, but Steve does notice a confused expression on Tony's face, and Sam has frozen, which makes Steve think he definitely knows something.

“You were getting pretty chummy with Peggy Carter for a while.” Comes Rhodey's voice from under the table.

“Peggy?” Steve thinks. “... maybe.”

It's at this point that Bucky stumbles in, looking pale and red around the eyes.

“Hey Bucky,” Tony addresses him in an odd tone of voice. “You don't, uh, know who might have been sucking on Steve's neck last night, do you? I mean, you _were_ with him all night. And you slept together on the couch so... maybe you know.”

Steve watches in confusion as Bucky's face goes red. He shakes his head, brushing past Tony to sit down in between Steve and Natasha at the table. “Don't know.” He grunts.

Tony is almost glaring at him now, and Sam is glancing in between the two of them, wide eyed. Steve would just like to know what the hell is going on.

So he says, “What the hell is going on?”

Unsurprisingly, no one actually answers his question.

“I guess it must have been Peggy Carter, then.” Tony says, eyes on Bucky. “Rhodey was just saying how her and Steve were pretty close last night.”

Steve watches Bucky's hand clench on the table. “I don't think it was her.”

“Um,” Says Sam.

“Oh, then who do you think it was?” Tony asks innocently.

“I don't _know_.” Bucky growls.

“Um, guys,” Sam pipes up. “I actually... might know.”

“No you _do not_!” Bucky snaps, pointing a finger at Sam.  
  
“Hey!” Steve sits up straighter, “Don't talk to Sam like that!”

There's a tense quiet in the room as Bucky closes his eyes, visibly calms himself, and curls his finger back into his fist.

“Sorry.” He says.

“What were you saying, Sam?” Tony asks. “Something about knowing who it was?”

Sam opens his mouth, looks at Steve, then Tony, then Bucky. He closes his mouth. “Ah, on second thought, it was actually a little blurry for me.”

Tony shakes his head, looking frustrated. “Fine. Whatever. _I'll_ tell him.”

“No!” Bucky shouts, leaping to his feet.

Steve is stunned at his outburst for a moment, and then it all falls into place.

“Holy shit.” He says, looking up at Bucky. Bucky's hands, clenched.

_Bucky's hands groping his ass, gripping his hips, holding his chin._

“ _There_ we go!” Says Tony, a smile breaking across his face. “He remembers, Ladies and Gentlemen, he remembers!”

Steve looks up at Bucky, who is looking down at him with a horrified expression on his face. All he can figure is that Bucky's ashamed of what happened. Why else would he be so adamant about Steve not finding out?

It hurts, the thought that Bucky might be ashamed of it. Steve doesn't really remember all of it, but he remembers now that it felt good, that he wanted it, that kissing Bucky felt perfect. Is he the only one who wanted that?

He swallows down the emotion in his throat and pushes himself out of his seat.

“I have to go.” He says, and so he does.

“Wait, who was it?” Asks an oblivious Thor, woken by all the shouting.

Clint, still without his hearing aids, sleeps on.

 

-o-

 

Steve doesn't see Bucky the rest of the day. He holds up in his apartment and avoids everyone, even his mother, which isn't easy because it's a small place. Steve curls up in his bed with his sketchbook and tries not to feel the hurt that lays heavy on his chest. It doesn't work. He wallows.

The second day looks like it's going to be more of the same, until his mother knocks on his bedroom door.

“Sweetheart,” She says, opening the door without waiting for an answer and poking her head in, “Bucky's here to see you.”

“No, mom!” Steve pulls his blankets up to his chin. “I don't want to see him, tell him to go away!”

His mother gives him a look. A very long, stern look, and says, “Too late.”

She opens the door the rest of the way and Bucky's there, standing next to her. She gives him a little shove into the room and then shuts the door quickly behind him.

“Uh, hi.” Says Bucky.

He's wearing a tanktop, tight around his torso, showing off the tight muscles in his arms. His hair is pulled up into a bun, the way Steve loves so much.

“Hi.” Says Steve.

“Listen,” Bucky says, moving closer slowly. He carefully sits down on the edge of the bed. “I came to apologize.”

“For what happened at the party?” Steve asks, feeling stung.

“Yeah.” Bucky confirms. “It wasn't... I- I was really drunk. I shouldn't have done that when you were so out of it.”

“You're ashamed of it?” Steve wants to know.

“Well, yeah.” Bucky says, looking a little lost. “I mean, I know- I know you seemed pretty into it, but, like, you couldn't really consent, right? 'Cause you were kinda fucked up? So- so I shouldn't have done it.”

“You... you're worried about _consent_.” Steve says, the truth finally dawning on him.

Bucky stares down at his hands, clasped in his lap. “You- you've taught me a lot of shit, you know? I should'a thought about it. You can't consent when you're drunk, right? I should'a thought.”

“Oh, Buck.” Steve says, sighing. “C'mere.” He opens his arms and Bucky, after a moment of hesitation, goes to him. Steve folds Bucky up in his arms.

“It's true... you have to be careful about that kind of thing.” He says. “People make bad decisions when they're drunk.”

Bucky's face starts to fall.

“But I don't regret what happened.” He says quickly.

Bucky looks up. “You don't?”

“I regret that I don't remember a lot of it. What I do remember seemed... really nice.”

Bucky clears his throat. “It was- it was good.” He says. “You're a really good kisser.”

Steve gives him a little smile. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to... start over?”

“Start over?”

“Yeah, from the beginning. You can even use a pickup line if you want.” Steve thinks of something suddenly. “That is- if you want this. I mean, if you don't I understand. We can just-”

“Hey,” Bucky reaches out and touches Steve's knee. “What's a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

Steve feels relief. Wonderful, cool relief. Then annoyance.

“Really? That's the best pickup line you have?”

“Uh... did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” Bucky tries.

“What, am I supposed to be the devil now? Listen here-”

Bucky leans forward and kisses him, Steve kisses back.

“Yeah, this seems right.” Steve mumbles against Bucky's mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> [catch me on tumblr](https://deanlightful.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Love & Hugs,  
> Grace.


End file.
